Zoology
by PaperMango
Summary: Sam (14) and Dean(18) spend a couple of weeks in Sioux Falls while John works a job involving a Gorgon in California. While on a biology trip to the zoo, Sam is privy to a murder. He decides to investigate with the help of Dean and a school friend to find out what's really going on. *There will be some gore and of course romance later on.
1. Chapter 1

_**Diclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the characters. Please sit back, relax, and enjoy this story! **_

The impala shuddered to a halt in the middle of the back-road the Winchesters were traveling on. John gave the dash a smack. "Damn car," he swore as he pushed the door open, signaling to Dean that he should follow him out. Sam started out as well, but John turned his head, "Stay in the car, Sam." Sam could tell his dad was still angry about his carelessness at their last job. He slouched down in his seat and sighed, trying to forget about his nearly fatal error.

Outside, Dean and John surveyed the exterior of the Impala. It wasn't pretty. The entire roof had been scraped of its shiny black coat, and the sides weren't much better. The front of the car was completely smashed in thanks to the agitated Rukh back at Harney Peak.

John reached for the latch to open the hood, choking on the foul smoke. "Dean, see this?" Dean looked over John's shoulder into the mess of machinery. He nodded, trying not to breathe in the toxic fumes. "This is what it looks like when you're screwed." John slammed the trunk back down. The day had been just about the longest and worst possible. Starting with the Rukh carrying off the car and mauling it.

"I could call Bobby," Dean suggested, wedging his hands in his pockets, "We're not far from Sioux Falls." His dad was touchy under stress, and Dean wasn't sure how he'd take the suggestion coming out of a mouth other than his own.

John let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Yeah, give Bobby a call. Phone's in the trunk."

Dean grabbed the phone and dialed Bobby's number. He picked up on the third ring. "Hey, Bobby it's Dean."

"What's your Dad gone and done now?" Bobby sounded cranky. Dean would try and make it short.

"Ran into some trouble with a Rukh up in Montana… scraped up the car pretty bad."

"Uh-huh."

"The Impala broke down."

"How far away are you?"

"'Bout four miles up the highway."

"Guess I'll be seein' you idjits soon." Bobby hung up. Dean threw the phone back in the trunk over a couple of machetes and a pistol.

"Bobby's coming to pick us up," Dean informed John.

"Great, Dean." John was sitting on the front of the truck with his flask screwed open. He was in one of his funks, Dean could tell, so he turned around and took a seat next to Sam.

"Uncle Bobby's gonna come pick us up."

"I heard, Dean," Sam's eyes were downcast. He was still upset about the Rukh. Dean took a deep breath and mussed Sam's hair. Sam punched him in the shoulder. It kind of hurt, but Dean pretended it didn't.

"Aw, c'mon Sammy-"

"_Sam,_" he hated being treated like a kid. He was fourteen now. He was _Sam._

"You know that Rukh getting away wasn't your fault."

"Dean, I forgot to bring the cardamom shells."

"Yeah, so maybe it was your fault a little, but you can't blame yourself every time we don't burn the bones or forget to pack salt," his little brother didn't respond.

"Dad's mad at me," Dean knew how much his father's anger hurt Sam. Sammy was different than him and Dad, and it worried Dean.

"Yeah."

Headlights flashed through the scummy windows of the Impala, and stopped across the road. Bobby had arrived. John's silhouette slipped off the car and disappeared as the headlights of Bobby's newest beater flicked out.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam rolled over on the lumpy mattress that Uncle Bobby had set up on the floor for him. He could hear Dean's light, reassuring snores above him on the bed that he had claimed as soon as they staggered into the house. His strongly corded arm was hanging over the side of the bed limp.

Sam couldn't sleep. The blanket was the itchy wool kind and it was hot, even for September. Sam's gangly legs stuck out awkwardly at the end of his makeshift bed, brushing the old radiator that was dull with rust and the shadow of trees lit by moonlight.

Muffled voices rose through the vents and pricked at Sam's ears. Bobby and Dad were having a disagreement about something, he could tell. Sam hoped they hadn't been drinking. Turning over onto a particularly uncomfortable lump he rubbed his eyes and decided that there was no way sleep would come to him easily tonight. Making sure to stay silent, he reached up for a handle on the wall, and tiptoed out into the creaky upstairs hall.

For a guy who fought ghosts and demons for a living, Uncle Bobby had a pretty creepy house, Sam thought as he examined the peeling rose wallpaper that had seemingly always been yellow with age. Still, Bobby had a home, which was more than could be said for the Winchesters.

Even though he only stayed with Uncle Bobby for sporadic, often short periods of time, Sam knew which stairs to avoid on the way downstairs. His feet were quick as he made the correct steps— _step, skip, step, step._ The voices grew louder. They must have been in Uncle Bobby's office/living room/bedroom/dining room, Sam realized as he inched closer to the doorway.

"You can't go now, John," Sam heard Bobby tell his Dad exasperatedly.

"I have to Bobby, just for a couple of weeks. There's a good lead on it, and I was headed out there right after we stopped in on you anyway," John sounded resigned. He and Bobby must have been over this before.

"I'm no babysitter. I got work to do to."

"Sam and Dean need a place to stay."

"Dean's an adult now, John. He's gonna do what he wants, you know he will. He's gonna want to follow you."

There was a long pause. Sam could hear the familiar gulp of beer, the sound of bottle on wood. "He's still my son, and I say he ain't fighting a gorgon."

Sam heard Bobby let out a sigh. Bobby was almost as resigned to John's steel will as his sons were. There was no arguing with the man. He could have (and had at numerous times) been ready to throw himself to the dogs before he let anyone else have their way. Everyone knew that, but hearing that his dad was off to hunt a gorgon still made him nervous. Especially since Dean and him wouldn't be able to help out like they had been lately. _Like I did with that Rukh,_ a pang of guilt shot through Sam like a poison arrow.

As the boys had gotten older John had let them in on his jobs more and more. Dean could be his intern investigator on house calls, and Sam could get the kids to talk. It was better than staying in motels for weeks with only Lucky Charms and cans of beans to eat, that was for sure, but it was still tough. It would always be tough.

Realizing that silence had fallen in the other room, Sam walked down the hall as if he hadn't been listening in on the adults' conversation. The two men looked up as Sam passed, surprised that he was still up. "Sam," John barked.

"Yessir," Sam turned toward John who looked surprising haggard and stretched from his tireless work in the dim lamplight.

"What are you doing up so late?"

Sam scuffed at the scratched up floorboard with his feet, "Couldn't sleep."

John looked skeptical, but nodded. Uncle Bobby was frowning at Sam like he was lying. He suspected Sam of listening in on Hunter Talk, but he wasn't going to say anything in front of John.

"I'm just going to grab a glass of water and go back up to bed," Sam motioned toward the kitchen and inched away.

Even as he opened the fridge and sorted through jars of pickled cat's liver and dead man's blood to find the jug of water Uncle Bobby kept at the far back behind the beer, he could feel his John's eyes on his back accusing him of ruining their last job, coaxing him to talk back or make a wrong move.

Sam poured his water and walked back up to bed where Dean was still lying, sound asleep. He checked to make sure that Dean was snoring before he slithered back into his lumpy bed.

Just in case.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean rose as he normally did: early and without enough sleep. Sammy was still sprawled across the makeshift bed that Dean had been lucky enough to avoid this visit to Bobby's. He stepped over his brother with care, and headed downstairs, stretching his arms out on the way. He could nearly touch the ceiling now. That made him smile. Dean remembered when getting up Bobby's stairs was like climbing a mountain and he could get lost in the beat up maze of cars in the Singer Auto field.

The house was quiet. Dean checked in on Bobby's office. The old guy was sleeping with his face smashed on a book that looked soft from use as a pillow if not reference. A string of drool hung from Bobby's slack jaw. Dean thought he looked adorable. Smiling slightly, Dean made his way into the kitchen where he began preparing breakfast.

A couple of old apples and a box of Nutty-Os were his only ingredients, but Dean managed to pull together a decent breakfast amid the machetes and hunting knives lying out to dry on the counter. The cereal was a bit stale, and the apples a bit soft, but it wasn't road food, which, despite his claims to the opposite, Dean was tired of.

"See you've helped yourself," Bobby stood in the doorway.

Dean raised a spoon, "Guilty as charged."

"Throw me an apple, wouldja?" Dean tossed it. Bobby caught the bruised fruit and bit into it, letting some of the juice dribble into his beard. "John's gone."

Dean stood slowly. He had hoped that his father had just been out sleeping in the car he preferred to a bed. "Why?" he could feel anger bubbling in his gut. Dean should have gone on the job with him to cover. His Dad's first rule was that the Winchesters stuck together no matter what. And right now he was breaking it. The hypocrite.

Bobby rubbed his beat up baseball cap nervously, "Said something 'bout a Gorgon in Maine, I think it was. Didn't want you boys tagging along."

"Dammit, Bobby I'm an adult!" Dean stood, ready to pack his bags and pull Sammy out of bed to track his father down if he had to, "Gorgons are at least in the top ten of most dangerous shit on Earth. You expect us to stay here while he goes and gets himself turned into some creepy-ass statue?"

"Don't raise your voice at me, son. I told him the same thing." Bobby waited for Dean to offer a retort, but the boy just scowled at his feet, "In the meantime, I enrolled Sam at the high-school," That didn't solve anything for Dean who had just finished his last year— with decent marks too— and he was about to say so when Bobby cut him off, "I got a job for you, too."

The way Bobby was looking at him, Dean knew it would be torture, probably with crap pay. "What is it?" he rubbed his forehead, resigned to staying camped out in Sioux Falls.

"You can work the phones," Bobby cackled, as he turned away and went back to his office.

The phone labeled FBI in peeling masking tape started to ring. Dean's eyes bore holes into it with a hatred he normally only reserved for Cindy Lauper.

"Get started now," Bobby called from the next room.

"I expect pie," Dean shouted back as he picked up the receiver, "Federal Bureau of Investigation…"


	4. Chapter 4

Sam stood at the end of the dusty driveway of Singer Auto waiting for the school bus. Dean had offered to give him a lift to his first day at Sioux Falls Consolidated in a jalopy of Bobby's, but Sam had refused flat out. For once he just wanted to be completely absolutely, straight-out-of-the-suburbs normal. No rumours flying about his father being an escaped convict or Dean sleeping around with the cheerleaders. No fights with the class bully. He would just be that unnoticeable new kid.

The heinous yellow bus screamed up the hill, kicking up dust from the dry dirt road. Sam tightened his backpack straps and hopped on. The grisly looking driver didn't give him a second glance, and the other kids didn't stare. Sam smiled a bit as he sat in an empty grey seat. This wasn't a permanent move, he knew. They'd be on the road again in a matter of days or at most a month. Whenever Dad got back from his trip they'd split. Him and Dad would go back to fighting and Dean would renew his position as passenger-seat mediator. Or maybe they'd all just be happy to see each other again. Maybe Dad would be too distracted by the Gorgon to care about Sam's slip up. At least, that's what Sam hoped.

In no time the bus had pulled up to the school and Sam was directed to his classroom by a secretary that looked and spoke like a pampered bulldog. Then he was in front of a new class, as always, shuffling and waiting for the teacher to introduce him. Or at least he was, until he caught sight of a tin-can car pulling up the driveway. Sam's heart rate went up. He hoped to God that Dean wasn't in that car.

"And this is a new student joining us from…" the young teacher nudged Sam who was no longer paying any mind to the class.

Sam winced and turned back to the sea of glassy eyes. The teacher had gotten him right on some fresh stitches. "I'm Sam," he told the students, "from Kansas." A chorus of non-commital grunts rose from the masses. Sam was directed to a seat at the back.

Just as he was fishing stubby pencils out of his well-used backpack and setting up a page in his pristinely upkept school notebook, the classroom door swung open and a girl was flung in a mess of dark hair and books. Mr. Williams (as Sam had noticed was written on the board in thin chalk) rose to meet her, but hesitated a little as he drew close. The new student was standing with her combat boot encased feet in battle stance, staring antagonistically at whoever looked her way. "And what's your name?" the teacher asked kindly.

"Erika, Conneticut, Mom was transferred here for work," she replied with bullet speed. She was at least as used to moving around as Sam, if not more.

"I-I see," Mr. Williams was obviously thrown off by her snappiness, "Well, why did your mother transfer, Erika?" She had already started down the desk rows toward the vacant seat next to Sam, but the teacher caught her wrist. She shrugged him off with a flick of her hand. Not many of the students seemed to notice, but Sam knew that trick. He'd used it multiple times on multiple monsters… and once on a motel owner… but the point was, not many people knew how to do it.

"Taco Bell," the girl told the class with a shark-toothed grin, "My mom got transferred to the Sioux Falls Taco Bell."

She raced down the aisle and took a seat next to Sam. Erika shoved her bag under her desk just in time for Sam to catch the unmistakable outline of a pentagram.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean had finally had enough. He didn't understand how Bobby could sit around taking calls all day without killing anything. The house was quiet without Sammy hanging around and griping about one thing or another. Although Dean would never admit it, he missed having his little brother around. It kind of made him wish he was back at school. Not that he missed school. School had never been Dean's thing. He knew what he was born to do— hunt. And that was what he was good at.

At about three in the afternoon, after receiving a particularly difficult call from a policeman who believed that one of the FBI agents was a fraud because he had seen the stupid hunter beheading a suspect, Dean checked in on Bobby. The old guy was deep in research. When he got like this, Bobby was impossible to disturb. Chuckling to himself, Dean exited through the back door. He knew it was wrong to skimp on duties, but he was craving a burger, and maybe some social interaction.

Possibly with some locals.

Some local girls.

Probably with some local girls.

Out back he took his pick of semi-fixed up cars (a maroon-y one with a bent fender) and hotwired it in record time. The perks of being a hunter. Without a second glance, Dean was on the road into town, humming Metallica and sort of loving his life for once.

The local diner, Uncle Tom's Chomp, was filled to the brim with students that had just got out of school. Dean sauntered up to the doors that were propped open by kids joking and generally being teenaged assholes— the kind of behaviour Dean had the privilege of looking down upon now that he was an adult. Of course, he also could have been looking down on this behaviour because he _was_ still asshole, and therefore allergic to assholery, but he waved that option as he butted through the line toward the greasy counter.

"Hey," Dean signaled the pretty girl at the cash, "I really need to get out quick… my Grandma's in the hospital, and they don't know if she'll make it through the night… so if you don't mind I'd really like a quick order, you know… Grammie's really craving a cheeseburger—" Dean rambled. The girl looked up from the change she was counting, her heavy eyelashes brushing her eyelids. She pushed her blond hair over her ear and gave Dean a once over.

"Uh-huh," she said, skeptically.

She wasn't buying it. "No-no believe me… Grammie could eat a cheeseburger like no one else I knew. It was… astounding, really," he flashed the girl a grin. She cocked an eyebrow. Dean didn't usually go for the non-cheerleader type of girl, but he liked whoever the cashier was. She didn't believe his lies, and Dean had come to realize that only very special people did not believe his lies.

"Get in the back of the line, John Wayne," she ordered him as she pushed a plate of fries forward.

"John Wayne? I love John Wayne. That guy's real cool, have you seen-"

Clearly unimpressed, the girl signaled the back of the line once again. It was obvious Dean's charms had grown rusty over the summer.

Resigned to having to wait however long it was that it took to get to the front of the counter, Dean headed to the back of the line. "The things I do for fast food," he muttered as he clomped his way past a couple violently sticking their tongues down each other's throats. "Better watch out," Dean told them with one of his winning grins, "Sometimes it takes surgery to get the tongue retrieved from the esophagus," that was a good one, he thought to himself. He was on a roll.

Of course, at that moment the male counterpart decided that Dean had insulted his manhood, and threw a punch that made Dean wish he was fighting a happy-go-lucky demon.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam was walking past the town diner when he heard Dean's voice. At first he thought it was just a coincidence; Dean was running the phones up at Bobby's. But as he glanced through the window, just to make sure his older brother wasn't doing anything stupid, he realized that he had in fact heard Dean shout.

Another guy had Dean pinned to one of the greasy red tables, ready to swing. The guy looked pretty strong, Sam thought as he sized him up, but Dean was stronger and quicker. He should have been able to take on his opponent no sweat.

"Dean!" Sam rushed through the walls of students to his brother, "Dean! Hey, get off my brother!" He pushed the guy aside. So much for the 'no fights' rule.

Dean rolled off the table and stood. He grabbed the kid's letter jacket and stared him down. It seemed like the guy melted under his glare. The jock lowered his eyes and stood down. Sam stepped between the two. Dean pushed him away. He couldn't have his kid brother getting mixed up with this asshat.

"C'mon Sammy," Dean nudged Sam closer to the exit. Silence was their doorman.

As soon as they were outside, Dean whacked Sam on the back of the head. "What did you come in for?"

"I don't know," Sam looked down at his shoes. They were too small for his feet now, and peeling at the toes, "I thought maybe you were in trouble."

"In trouble?" Dean laughed incredulously. Sam felt blood rushing to his cheeks, "With that guy? Come on. I've taken on werewolves, I think I can take on Quarterback McJock without help from you."

Sam sighed. This conversation would only end badly, so he changed the subject, "I thought you were working the phones."

"Aw, Sammy… Can't a guy have a little fun?"

"You skipped out on Bobby?" incredulous, Sam turned to his older brother, who shrugged, "Dean, what if Dad called and he was stuck with the Gorgon and needed backup… or-or Pastor Jim needed some help with an exorcism? What would have happened to them? What if they needed you to cover from them, and you weren't there? What if-"

"Whoa, whoa, Sammy," Dean took his brother by the shoulder and held him still, "I'm sure Bobby's got it covered. Don't worry," Sam frowned at Dean, defiant. Sometimes it was hard to keep control of the kid, Dean thought. The two continued along the main drag, passing the stores displaying the bare necesseties of life in Sioux Falls. "Weren't you supposed to be going home on the bus?" Sam didn't answer. "Sammy," Dean repeated, "Weren't you supposed to come home on the bus?"

Sam mumbled something purposely so that Dean wouldn't hear.

"I'm sorry. I didn't hear you over the sound of that feather over there hitting the pavement— come on, Sammy, you know I wouldn't tell anyone."

"Like that time when you said you wouldn't tell Dad about my part in the school play, or the time when I told you about those werewolf cubs?"

"You know those cubs were dangerous, and there was no way you were playing Hamlet in the school play. I mean, come on man… _Hamlet_?" Dean realized he wasn't doing such a good job of selling his trustworthiness, "Okay, okay. I promise I won't tell anyone."

Sam nodded hesitantly, then took a deep breath, "There's this girl in my class… she's new to town, and there's something really weird about her."

"What like, monster weird or like, weird kid weird?"

"No, like hunter weird," the boys turned a corner onto the road where Dean had parked the stolen Tin Lizzie, "She had a pentagram on her bag and she knew how to fight I think, 'cause at lunch she knocked a guy out cold… Anyway, I thought it was kind of weird you know, like, maybe she's here with another hunter and there's a case or something, so I decided to follow her after school."

Dean pulled the driver's door of the maroon car open to which it protested with a helpless shriek, "Wait, so let me get this straight… You're stalking a girl. I never pegged you for that desperate, dude."

"I wasn't stalking her, Dean," Sam threw his backpack in the backseat, frustrated, "I'm just concerned that something's going on here."

"You think by some coincidence that some other kid hunter just happened to be in your class? What are the odds? There aren't even any other kid hunters that I know of, let alone one's in the same age bracket as you, Sammy."

Sam sighed. Dean was hopeless. It looked like he'd have to investigate by himself. His older brother started the car, and the boys headed back to Singer Auto where Bobby was waiting with a fearful talk.


	7. Chapter 7

"Idjits," Bobby slammed a precious book down on the kitchen table, "Both of you."

Sam shuffled around nervously. He didn't like getting yelled at by Uncle Bobby. It was worse than when his Dad shouted because Bobby wasn't family; him and Dean weren't his responsibilities. And yet, Bobby seemed to care a lot more than their father did half the time.

Dean liked getting yelled at even less than his younger brother, but he'd never let it show, or admit to it. Each word out of Bobby's mouth punched him in the gut, but he pushed the guilt away. He didn't need that crap in his life. If he let it in, sooner or later he'd be saving every Casper the Friendly Ghost and Teen Wolf in the tri-state area.

Bobby turned on Dean first, "You know, I wondered where you went when four of the phones started ringing off the hook. Never thought it would be because you went for a burger at that friggin' diner," Bobby rolled up his sleeves, "I mean, Dean, when I give you a job, you do it, not because I tell you, but because people could _die_ if you don't do it. You owe them respect, and your help, no matter how bored you get."

Dean nodded. He didn't look Bobby in the eyes.

"And you," Bobby turned to Sam, "You were supposed to get home on the bus. Now, I know you thought something important was goin' on in town or something, but at least call and tell."

The younger brother nodded too. He almost wanted to tell Bobby about Erika, but he wasn't sure what his reaction would be.

Silence fell in the kitchen lit golden by the afternoon light. "Well?" Bobby raised one of his wild eyebrows threateningly, "Got anythin' to say?"

"Sorry Bobby," Dean sighed.

"Sorry Uncle Bobby," Sam echoed.

"Alright, get going on whatever it is you two have to do," Bobby exited, still in a huff, muttering to himself.

Both of the boys were miserable. Their time at Bobby's was heading downhill, steep and fast. They didn't say so, though. Sam and Dean parted ways one to homework, the other to the phones, and deep into the night they wondered where their Dad was, and whether he was okay.


	8. Chapter 8

The phones had been quiet for a while, and in the quiet Dean was remembering.

For no reason in particular he was thinking about their first year on the road. Dean had recently turned five, and Sammy wasn't one yet. There wasn't much hunting in the first year. Dad hadn't wanted to leave the two of them alone in motels back then. By the time Dean had reached seven that had changed.

They stayed in the impala a lot back then. They would just park on a back road and John would lay out a scratchy blanket and pillow in the back for Dean and make a little nest for Sam on the passenger seat side. Then he always got out and sat on the front of the car and had a beer. "A beer," John always said, but sometimes—most times— it was a case of Budweisers or most of a bottle of whiskey. Then Dean would hear noises from outside. At first he thought that there were animals waiting to eat him and his brother and Dad, and they were sniffing them out before attacking, but then he heard Dad's voice quietly shaking with Mom's name.

When the noises stopped, John would get back in the car quietly, his pores leaking alcohol, and start snoring. That's when Dean would fall asleep too. When he knew his Dad was okay.

A phone rang, startling Dean. He had been nodding off. It was Bobby's home line, but Dean picked it up anyway. He was practically family after all.

"Dean?" Sammy's voice hissed over the crackling line.

Dean sighed and changed ears. It was 1:50. Sammy should have been in class, "Yeah, it's me."

"You know Erika?"

Dean picked at a splinter that was peeling off the corner of the countertop, "Who?"

"The— Dean— the girl I was telling you about yesterday—" a rush of voices was coming from the other end, making it hard to hear his brother's already quiet voice. Dean pressed the phone closer to his ear.

"What about her, Sammy?" he was pretty skeptical about the girl. Sammy had always been the paranoid one. He was probably just worried about Dad and transferring it to a made-up case.

"It's _Sam_, Dean, not Sammy_._" the line rustled loudly.

"Jeez, don't raise your voice, kiddo," he could feel Sammy tensing up on the other end, "What's going on?"

Sam sighed, "Erika stabbed a guy."

Dean's leg smashed into the table leg. He swore loudly.

"I know it's not good—"

"Did you say she _stabbed_ someone?"

"Yeah, this guy in the cafeteria— Dean, do you think we could—"

"Sammy," Dean cut him off. He knew where this was going. Sam wanted to bust her out, "This isn't our kind of thing."

"Actually… I think it is… I—"

"Hello? Who is this? Who is on the other end of this line? Police— we'll be taking the child into custody— Hello? Anyone there?"

Dean slammed the phone down, "God, Sammy," he swore and kicked the cupboard wincing at the extra pain that sent to his leg, "Bobby!" he called down the hallway. No one answered, so he grabbed his coat and rushed outside, "Bobby!" he yelled into the field of automobiles. A baseball cap appeared in the distance, "We need to get to the police station."

Bobby jogged over looking worried. "What's going on?" he asked as they slid into the nearest functioning car.

Dean started the car with an uncomfortable jolt and told Bobby about Sam's call. "Girl sounds like trouble," Bobby grumbled, buttoning his grease stained plaid and trying to smooth his thinning hair beneath his cap.

Ten miles above the speed limit (which was more like a speed suggestion anyway) Dean tore into the police parking lot ticketless and successfully double-parked. Bobby made him re-park, though. He didn't want to pay the fine. The two hunters marched in like they owned the Sioux Falls Police Department.

Inside uniforms clogged the lobby. At least ten high school students were being taken in for questioning… some not so willingly, Dean observed as a cheerleader shoved an officer into the wall and ran for the fire exit. "What the hell?" Bobby muttered beside him. Dean nodded in agreement before addressing the shell-shocked junior officer at the counter.

"Excuse me," Dean tried to put on a polite smile, "but I think my little brother may have been brought in earlier and I kind of would like to know why and maybe get him out of this joint. He's about yay-high, and kinda scrawny looking… gives you this puppy dog look that simultaneously wants to make you trust him and shoot him— or maybe that's just me."

The officer just gave him a bug-eyed look, "Name?"

"Sam Winchester," Bobby told him menacingly, "I'm Bobby Singer. Lookin' after him for a while."

"Wait, you're Bobby Singer?" the officer seemed to snap out of his daze for a moment, "_The _Bobby Singer? The town drunk?"

Bobby gave him steel.

"Right. Sam Winchester… Simpson will chat with you about the kid," he signaled a hulking man down a back hall. Dean nodded thanks.

The hallway was thin and claustrophobic. Dean and Bobby couldn't walk shoulder to shoulder, so Dean led, reaching Samson first. "Where's my brother?" he demanded. Bobby pulled him as if he weighed the same as a bag of chips.

"Sam Winchester?" Bobby asked the shadowy police officer.

"You his Dad?"

"Something like that," Bobby stood a foot shorter than the burly policeman, but in that moment Dean thought he surpassed the ceiling.

Turning so that only his crisp back was visible, Samson motioned for them to follow. They stayed close behind through the maze of hallways, finally entering an interrogation room. Dean could see Sam sitting awkwardly in the chair on the other side. He wanted to break the mirror down and sweep his brother up and get the hell out of town, but that would be bad form. "What happened?" he asked instead.

"Kid is a suspected accomplice in the stabbing at the school," the officer rubbed his stubble, "Girl stabbed another kid. Went berserk. Still haven't found the poor bastard."

Bobby raised an eyebrow at Dean. Dean shrugged. This couldn't possibly be their kind of thing.

"Where's the girl being kept?" when the question seemed too forthright, Dean edited, "I mean, just out of curiosity."

The officer didn't seem too suspicious, "Two rooms down."

Bobby and the officer started talking details. Dean watched his brother. He didn't often get the chance.

Sammy still looked like a kid. He still had those gangly arms and chicken legs and a soft face, but he was getting that hard look. It wasn't stubbornness— he'd always had that look. It was hunting. It made him look sad in a way that couldn't be shared. Dean knew this wasn't the life his younger brother wanted. But it was the life they'd gotten and the life Sammy had always had. In some ways Dean had it a lot better than Sam.

And for now he was grateful.

For now.


	9. Chapter 9

This was his first real interrogation. Sure he'd been badgered by the police, and questioned about his father, and even almost caught in the act of what could have passed for murder or at least heavy assault, but this was questioning full-out, with the good-cop/bad-cop double mirror handcuffed to the table all-out deal.

Sam was in a load of crap. If Dad found out… his heart seemed to inch its way up his throat. Dad was another issue. They'd talk when he got back from California. He hoped Dean hadn't gotten in any second-hand trouble. Or Bobby.

Despite his having faced goblins and ghouls and all manner of creepy crawlies, Sam was scared— _nervous_, he told himself, _not scared, nervous._ Sam wished he had a paper clip in his pocket. Then maybe he could escape the claustrophobic room.

He wondered how he could have been so stupid. Following Erika was a dumb move, and she'd told him so the next morning at school.

Sam spotted her that morning climbing out of the beat up excuse for a car that her (mother?) parent drove, and followed her. Of course, she had lured him out to an alleyway behind the school where she confronted him directly by taking a thin knife to his throat. She stood close to Sam and he could see the flecks of olive in her eyes. He didn't like olives.

"You're following me," she whispered. Sam plastered himself to the brick wall.

"No… I'm not following you," he replied rather unconvincingly.

She dropped the cool knife to her side, but Sam could tell she was still ready to use it. "That's funny, 'cause I happen to know who you are, Winchester, and I know you followed me downtown yesterday."

"What do you mean, you know who I am? I just go to school here, like— like a normal kid—"

She interrupted his fib with a humourless laugh, "You're kidding, right? You think I don't know who your Daddy is?"

Sam was silent. He tried to remember monster weaknesses. He had to check, just in case. That's when he remembered that he didn't have any silver on him or an exorcism memorized or a scrap of iron. _She had better be a hunter,_ he thought.

"John Winchester. He's a legend, you know."

"You're a hunter?"

She nodded, "You are too."

He nodded.

Erika seemed to be turning something over in her head. Sam pulled at his collar. It was too early in the morning for action. "I'm working a case here," she told Sam, and explained to him about a skinwalker nest somewhere nearby. "Phil Briggs in the tenth grade," Erika confided in him long after the first period bell had rung, "He's our best bet. I practically caught him turning from a beagle on Victoria Crescent. So far he's robbed three houses."

"How?" Sam asked. It seemed like it would be a little hard to rob houses in the shape of a small dog.

"You don't wanna know," Erika told him, smiling a little.

"No, I do!" Sam insisted. He liked Erika the more she talked to him. She was smart and she picked up on details quickly. She was also nice to him in the way that family is supposed to be nice to you. Erika sort of was his family, anyway. Hunters were family, Dad always said.

Erika glanced down at her combat boots, letting her ponytail gloss over her grey-green clad shoulder. "Well, he eats them and… you know," she giggled, "goes for a walk."

Sam wrinkled his nose, "Eugh, God, really?"

"There's a reason they call him Feces Phil."

"They call him that?"

"No, you're so gullible… how'd you ever survive being a hunter's kid?"

"Luck, I guess."

They sat together and talked until lunchtime. It was nice. Erika told him about her time on the road recently. They'd driven all the way from Oregan, just her and her mom to take this job. She didn't know Bobby, but she wanted to meet him.

Sam told her about Dean and his Dad, but avoided the Rukh adventure.

By the time they were done talking it was lunch hour. Unfortunately, it was also the time Phil chose to freak out and nearly strangle a football player while simultaneously turning into a goat. In the chaos, Erika had had to resort to desperate measures. Sam held Phil down and Erika stabbed him in his furry grey leg. Phil escaped bleating, and Sam and Erika were just about to go after him when the police showed and Erika was captured. Sam had just enough time to get to a phone and call Dean before being taken into custody.

_So much for Dean busting me out,_ Sam thought. As he leaned back on his chair and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants.

A sound came from the entrance, and slowly, slowly the beige steel door swung open.


	10. Chapter 10

_The following is a first person account of the interrogation from officer Samson's perspective._

I've been an officer for twenty years now, but I've never interrogated a kid. They never train you for this. This is a job for the social workers or something. I'm not big on kids. Never have been. Most of them are just junior shits.

I sigh and check my watch. Fifteen minutes to break. Hopefully I can get this over with quickly. God, I would kill for a coffee.

This should be easy. Kid'll be nervous and/or scared. Doesn't want the law keeping him overnight or anything. Not that we could… the most he'll get probably is a fine and a ticket to juvie.

The kid is trying to avoid eye contact. As soon as I look anywhere close to him he stares back down at his lap. "You don't have to be nervous, kid," I tell him, "I'm just gonna ask you some questions. If you answer truthfully nothing too bad will come of it... Maybe a fine... But if you lie there will be consequences." The blood drains from the kid's face as be nods.

"What do you know about Phil Briggs?" I'll start him off with a simple question. Ease him into his comfort zone. Then I'll strike like a cobra.

"N-nothing," his eyes dart around, "I mean, not much, sir. My brother and I just moved here from Kansas-"

"Did you know Phil was adopted?"

"Was he?" kid seems to find this interesting.

"I'm not tryin' to make light conversation here. This is a serious matter. There could be a kid bleeding out somewhere in town."

"Yes, sir."

I sigh and lean back, balancing on my chair. "Moving on... The girl, Erika, did she threaten you in any way?"

He shakes his head.

"Yes or no?"

"No."

"Did you hold the kid down of your own free will?"

The kid is silent for a while. I smack the table and he jumps, "_Did you hold him down of your own free will?_"

"N-no."

He barely mumbles it, and at first I'm not sure what his answer was. "'Scuse me?"

"No," he holds my seasoned tiger glare, "It was a man. He contacted me by phone. He said if Erika and I stabbed Phil he wouldn't hurt us."

I'm taken aback at this outburst. Maybe there's more to this tale than I know at present. I check my watch discreetly. Two minutes to break. "Alright, kid… gimme the guy's name and number and I'll let you and the girl go."

"Thank you," he said. Real sincere.

"No problem, kid. No problem."


	11. Chapter 11

They walked to the car in a clammy silence. Dean didn't know whether to be happy that Sammy wasn't in the coop or angry that he'd given Samson Dad's number. Bobby was just plain out furious. Sam was in for it. And he deserved it this time. There would be no defending his brother from the consequences of his recklessness.

Although Dean didn't have the full story, he knew that this escapade had everything to do with that hunter girl, Erika. If she even was a hunter. They pulled out jerkily onto the pothole ridden road. Dean's hands gripped the wheel so tight he might have been able to squeeze right through. Bobby looked about ready to boil over... he had the right. The twangs of Dolly Parton weaselling their way out of the stereo system only heightened the tension in the car.

Finally Dean couldn't take it anymore. He killed the music, slammed on the brakes and turned toward Sammy violently.

"What the hell was that?" Dean pulled the keys out of the ignition hard, "You'd better have a good reason for fucking setting the police on Dad."

Sam winced at his brother's words. It took a moment before he was ready to explain himself. Dean's eyes glistened furiously at him, "We were onto a skinwalker... Me and Erika. She's a hunter's kid too. The guy was half-goat and attacking someone else, so we did damage control."

"Wouldn't call a full-out police investigation 'damage control' exactly," Bobby muttered from the front.

"Jesus, Sam. Of all the idiotic things... You seriously thought stabbing some skinwalker would fix the situation?" "It seemed like the right thing to do then." "Was it Erika's idea?" Silence from Sam. So it was the girl. Dean nodded. He was disappointed in his little brother. Sam had more sense than this, didn't he? Sammy itched his hand nervously. "And what about the whole 'a guy threatened me' stunt? Did you even think for a moment that Dad doesn't need cops on his trail when he's trying to track a friggin' gorgon down?"

"Dad can deal with the police, Dean." How Sam could be so selfish sometimes, Dean didn't understand.

"Sam, you idiot," he gave a bitter laugh and turned the key in the ignition. The remainder of the drive was torture. As soon as the car pulled to a halt at the far left of the fleet, Bobby tore out of his seat and slammed the passenger seat door. "Bed," he growled at Sam. Then he took off into the night.

Dean stood alone for a while, simply staring at the sky. Dad would blame him, as always. It was his fault, sort of. He should have been taking better care of Sammy. Payed more attention to what he'd said about that Erika character. Maybe told him to keep his distance. Sammy would kill him one day, he thought. He was hard to keep track of, and stubborn as hell. Just like Dad, Dean realized. And he looked up at the sky one last time before he went in to the company of the old lumpy cot, and the promise of a complicated couple of weeks.

_**Please tell me what you've thought so far, and share any suggestions! Thanks for reading, guys!**_


	12. Chapter 12

Dread was choking Sam. It wrapped around him, smothered him, and rose to insurmountable heights. Wasn't he supposed to be the normal kid? That guy at the back if the class who was pretty smart? Wasn't be supposed to be good for Bobby and Dean ?

The cobwebbed ceiling didn't answer. His throat was burning with the tears he wouldn't let himself shed. This was a mess alright. A mess for him, a mess for Dean, a mess for Dad, for Bobby... a mess for Erika.

Dean had his back turned to Sam. He kept shifting positions. Sam could tell his brother was not asleep either. He wanted to ask Dean for the forgiveness he knew he didn't deserve for his idiotic actions. Dad would probably blame Dean, and it was for that he was the most guilty. This had nothing to do with His older brother. It was just Sam and Erika and the damn skinwalker.  
Bobby hated him too.

'One day I'll get out of this mess,' Sam thought to himself, 'One day I'll go to school and meet a girl and have kids and a house and a real job and it will be great,' he promised himself, 'it will be great.'

The rest if the night passed sleeplessly, sluggishly, and uncomfortably. Sam got up at the normal time for school, and prepared in the normal way. He tried to wash the dark circles beneath his eyes and limpness of his limbs away without effect. He rode in a daze to school and answered roll call through a muffled haze. It wasn't that Sam wasn't used to sleep deprivation- the road ensured that he got his fair share- it was more the eternal cycle of guilt and dread squeezing his brain to a pulp.

Erika didn't show up that morning. She must have been suspended. Either that or she and her mom had already hit the road. Vaguely, Sam hoped that that wasn't the case. She had told him the motel she was staying at- Skylight or something- but he wasn't about to chase her down after yesterday's events.

On the way to biology, Sam got a record amount of stares. By the time he entered the classroom he was almost set on skipping the rest of the day and hiding out in a janitor's closet. Whispers followed him like fleas on a stray dog. He was officially Psycho-Sam. For the first time that year, Sam wished that Dean was still in school. Then at least he'd know someone didn't think he was a head case.

The biology teacher, Miss Phillips passed out a sheet of paper. She had to squeeze through the isles. Her immense and cherry-coloured girth was larger that the crowded desks would allow. She handed Sam the sheet carefully as if he might pull out a knife and stick her through right then and there. Sam sighed. He'd liked Miss Phillips. She was cheerful and enthusiastic about her subject.

The sheet she had passed out was a permission slip for a trip to the zoo to observe behaviour patterns of certain animals. She read aloud at the front of the class while the class mostly listened. Sam was trying to pay attention when he felt a sharp nudge at his back. Snickers followed. He turned around. Mason, the class-clown, was leaning back nonchalantly in his blue plastic chair. Sam turned back around and continued to listen. "You must get either a parent or guardian to sign this form," Miss Phillips explained. A second and sharper nudge caused Sam to turn again. He frowned at Mason who struggled to keep his blank face. Miss Phillips glanced back at the boys over her bottle-thick glasses and continued. a few minutes later a definite sharp pain caused Sam to cry out. The entire class turned to look at him. His face flushed scarlet as he reached a hand up his back and removed several thumbtacks from his shirt where Mason had stuck them. Miss Phillips sighed. "Is there a problem Mr. Winchester?"

Sam shook his head, "No... no ma'am," he told her. Mason sniggered through the rest of the period. Sam considered asking for a hall pass so that he could drown himself in the school toilets.

Just as he was seriously considering hitching a ride to Seattle and pretending he was a lost amnesiac, Sam walked straight into Erika.  
"Watch where you're going-" she looked up at Sam from the leather bound volumes she was gathering up from the floor, "hey, Sammy-"

"Sam," he corrected her.

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes, "you got out okay too, I see." Sam nodded. He wasn't really in the mood for conversation.  
Erika stood and smashed the books back into her bag. "You doing anything after school today?"

"I'm considering removing an essential part of my brain so that I'm permanently stuck in a vegetative state, or feeding myself to a nest of starving monsters."

"Hmm," she zipped the bag up, "Well, I was thinking that maybe we could go grab a bite at the diner or something... y'know, in light of our recent escape from the law." Erika laughed. It was the kind of laugh that made you want to smile a little bit. Sam nearly broke his frown.

"Can't," he apologized, "I'm kind of in deep trouble with the whole stabbing thing. I may have told the police to go after my dad. Dean and Bobby are pretty pissed."

Erika grimaced, "Oh, bad plan... But I guess we could always hang out at the-" she hoisted an already crumpled sheet of paper from her bag and waved it in Sam's face, "-zoo!"

Sam didn't smile. Erika lost hers, "C'mon Sam... it's the zoo! Zoos are fun... I think. I've never actually been to one."

"Me neither," Sam confessed.

"I guess it will be a first for both of us," she grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him down the hallway with her. For a second he forgot about the whole skinwalker debacle and got stuck in his moment with Erika. Maybe he could survive with a friend.

He sighed as the moment was lost and they entered the math classroom.


	13. Chapter 13

The phone call came the next night. After a dinner of shriveled chicken made by Bobby who was by no means a chef, Dean stood sentinel at his usual spot by the beat-up phones. He was bored out of his mind. This was the eighth day he'd been working the phones from 8:00-8:00 nearly non-stop. He needed a break. He was gonna grow grey hair. He was gonna lose his mojo. He was never gonna get one freakin' slice of pie.

It was 7:59 when the ring of the FBI phone interrupted Dean's thoughts of maybe going into to town and scouting out a party tonight. "Federal Bureau of Investigation," he sighed unconvincingly.

"Dean."

It was Dad. Dean sat down defeatedly, "Hey Dad."

"What are the police doing on my trail?" John's voice was husky as if he was hiding out someplace or had just gotten back from a rough encounter. Dean hoped it was the former.

"We had some trouble up here," he explained, "Sammy got taken in for interrogation… something about a skinwalker…"

There was a silence from the other end, and then, "Put Sammy on the line."

"Yessir," Dean placed the phone carefully on the table as if it held his father's fragile temper within, "Sammy?" he called up the stairs. His brother didn't answer right away so he yelled a little louder, "Sammy!"

"Yeah?" came a muffled voice from above.

"Dad's on the phone. You'd better hurry up."

Sam practically teleported to the phone. Dean watched his brother put it to his ear cautiously, and listened as he explained Erika and the skinwalker. Sam's face didn't change as he uttered "yessir" and "nosir" to Dad's comments and definite criticisms. There was a time when Dean knew that Sam would have yelled back and told Dad that he was wrong. Heck, there were still times when Sammy picked fights. But this was different. Sammy knew how in the wrong he was.

It was 8:00. Dean didn't bother to hang around to hear the end of the conversation. Instead he told Bobby that he was going out, (Bobby nodded approval from over a bone he was examining), and took a car into town.

It was Friday night, so the community was still lit up. He roamed the streets searching for the throbbing music that indicated a roaring party. On the outskirts of a subdivision he found his haunt. The music thumping out of the bungalow's fogged up windows was terrible. But that was the best indicator of good alcohol. Bad music, good beer was Dean's motto. He chuckled at his own cleverness as he pulled into a parking spot a block from the house.

He entered the dimly lit house through the front, unnoticed by a hostess or host. He surveyed the crowd. _Oh yes,_ he grinned, _this is the place I am meant to be._ Cheerleader looking girls were left right and center followed closely by the kind of guys that always ended up alone at the end of the night.

Dean was about to approach a blonde who was downing a beer by the living room's ugly beige couch when he felt something wet dripping down his leg. He turned to see what had spilled only to come face to face with the girl from the diner. "I'm so sorry!" she shouted over the music, "I didn't mean to spill it… hey—" a look of recognition dawned in her eyes, "You're the guy—"

"—From the diner, well what do you know?" Dean gave her his most seductive smile. She must have been a little tipsy, because she smiled back.

"Why don't we get you cleaned up in the kitchen?" she pulled him away before he could answer. They traveled through sweat and chip encrusted carpet onto the smooth and private linoleum of a sixties style kitchen. The girl grabbed a cloth, wetted it and threw it to Dean who caught it sloppily. He wiped the beer from his jeans the best he could as she offered him a beer. He accepted graciously.

The girl sucked on her bottle with the determination only the young and seasoned alcoholics seem to have. "You're from out of town?" The alcohol flushed her cheeks. Dean thought she was beautiful. He didn't usually think girls were.

"Yeah, yeah… I'm not from here. Name's Dean, by the way," he took a swig and leaned back on the hard plastic countertop.

"Mikaela," the girl giggled, "I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm laughing at… its just I'm a little drunk, I think."

"We've all been there," Dean shot her a look of false understanding, "I forgot to tell you— you were the best cashier at the diner that day. And totally the hottest."

She gave him a quizzical look, "Are you trying to flirt with me again?"

"Maybe a little," Dean admitted.

Mikaela placed her beer on the counter and moved next to Dean. She stood at about mid-chest to Dean. She was thin, but not fragile. No— Dean was sure she could pack a punch. She grabbed his hands, looked up into his eyes and kissed him straight on the mouth.

Dean had never been more unprepared in his life.

In the first few seconds their kisses were sloppy and tasted of beer and awkwardness. But as she drew closer to him, and he pulled her to him, their mouths intertwined in a symbiotic code. Together they forgot where they were— that they were young and drunk and bad music was playing and people were talking and wondering and having loveless sex in the bedroom down the hall. They forgot that they were just two lonely inhabitants of Sioux Falls who happened to meet twice, unexpectedly.

As Mikaela pulled away from Dean he appreciated her one thousand times the amount that he had before they had touched. And as he drew her closer he thought, _yes, this is much better than babysitting the phones. _

**_And that's all for now, folks! What do you think? Aren't you glad _****_someone_****_ finally got some action in this story? What would you like to see more of? Please let me know! Thanks for reading!_**


	14. Chapter 14

The conversation last night had not gone well. Dad was on the run from an angry Gorgon and the police. He was hiding out in a greasy motel on the outskirts of LA with nothing to cover his tracks but a couple of planted clues. Sam had really impeded the progress of his job, not to mention his father's every day life. And, as John reminded him, by extension his own.

Sam grabbed an old shirt and a pair of ratty pants. Bobby had finally broken his vow of silence in the presence of Sam when he had apologized with renewed fervour after talking to Dad. To simultaneously punish and reconcile his relationship with the youngest of his surrogate sons, Bobby had decided to get Sam to help him with fixing up the impala.

Usually it was Dean who helped with fixing up the car, so he was more experienced. Sam, on the other hand, knew more than the average kid about the mechanical side of cars, but was more comfortable in other subjects... school subjects. Besides, Dean had gotten back from wherever he'd gone last night too late to get up at Bobby's early call of 7:30.

Sam headed downstairs, trying to pat down his hair, which stood up on end after a full night of tossing and turning. Panic nightmares were much worse than the regular kind, the kind with monsters and blood, Sam had learned recently. Panic stuck with you when you woke because it was real. He reached into the fridge and poured himself a glass of milk (not without giving the carton a sniff-check) and headed out to the garage.

The sight of the impala still made him cringe. _At least this way_, he thought, _I'll be able to fix what I broke_. Sam wished that were true for other things.

Bobby rolled out from under the front of the car. He had grease on his nose and his fingers were blackened. "Pass me the wrench," Bobby ordered, so Sam grabbed the closest one out of the jumble of tools on the rotting wood table that must have been well-crafted at one point, but now looked as if only two of the legs were functioning.

Bobby grunted in thanks as Sam handed the wrench over. "That rukh sure did a number on the car," he commented.

"Yeah," Sam said uncomfortably.

"Carried it off at Harney Peak?"

"Yeah."

"How far did it drop?"

"About 40 feet…" Sam mumbled.

"Didn't catch that," Bobby rolled back out from under the car.

"40 feet," he repeated, unable to meet Bobby's eye.

Bobby rolled back under, "Lucky thing you got me, then innit?"

"Yeah, it is, Uncle Bobby," there was a short silence, "Bobby?"

"Yes," he handed the wrench back to Sam and stood to open the front hatch, "C'mere."

Sam went to his side, and cleared his throat, "I know that I've messed up a lot since I've come here, and… before that even, I guess, with the rukh," Bobby was examining the insides of the impala closely, but Sam knew he was listening. Bobby was a good listener when you needed someone to listen closely, "but do you think Erika… do you think I made the wrong decision in trusting her?"

Bobby sighed and looked Sam over. Although he didn't have a really close bond with the kid he knew that he was the outsider in the family, and being the outsider was difficult. But Sam needed the truth. "Well, she is a hunter, and as much as hunters serve the people — we do not serve each other unless we're on the hunt together. If she's what she says she is, it also means she's a liar, and a good one. You shouldn't trust her. Especially after you got caught in that business with the police."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I know," and he did. It just made him sad that he would have to abandon his first real and truthful friend. Truthful. He'd been truthful with Erika, but there was no guarantee that she had been with him. He needed to avoid any more slip-ups. He _needed _to.

Bobby gave Sam instructions and they moved on to the conversation of cars.

Dean joined them an hour later, clutching his head and cursing the noise half-heartedly, a hint of a smile on his lips.


	15. Chapter 15

Dean was thinking about Mikaela. This was weird for him. He usually made out and forgot. For some reason she was different. And it was freaking him out. What if he got committed? Attached? So, naturally, he was doing everything he could to keep his mind off her. He worked the phones, he touched the exterior of the impala up... even made up with Sammy.

And now he was thinking about her again.

Last night they didn't even move past first base. There was no under-the-shirt action or anything remotely sexy. It was just him and her in the kitchen kissing and then talking and drinking beers. Her Mom was single, working as the town dentist. She had a brother who was five years younger than her, and a sister who was studying law at Yale. An apple pie life. That's what she had, and as much as Dean tried to convince himself otherwise, he wanted to be part of it. He wanted to know what it felt like to come home and have dinner not out of a box and hug and make sure the kids did their homework. He wanted that.

"Dean?" Sam's voice called him, "Dean, did you hear what I asked you?"

"Yeah, yeah... of course. I was listening, Sammy," he lied and tried to figure out what his brother had told him. He didn't remember.

Sammy was smiling at him, "Where'd you go last night?"

"To a mystical land that is beyond the stretch of even your imagination."

"Dean, seriously."

"A party, Sammy."

Sam smiled even wider, "You met someone, didn't you?" he coaxed as Dean taped down the front windshield.

Dean tried desperately to cover his tracks, "Nah, it was just a high-school party..." he inspected his work, eventually deeming it satisfactory.

"Okay, then," Sam grabbed the roll of tape from Dean, "why are you being so nice?"

"What?" he laughed, "I'm always nice, Sammy." He punched his brother in the arm.

Sam punched him back, "Jerk," he laughed.

"Bitch."

For a moment Dean wondered if maybe he could tell Sam about her. No, he decided, no it's better if I keep this to myself. Maybe if he ignored it it would go away.

The only problem was he said that he'd meet her. Should he blow her off? Pretend to be running errands after 8:00? God knew Bobby needed some food in his fridge instead of the bodily fluid crap he liked to preserve. But she'd invited him to the pie place in town. He was aching for a slice of coconut cream.

The boys finished taping the windows by dinner time. Working on the impala had taken a lot out of them, so when Bobby called them in for pizza they were each set to down an entire 9-inch.

Dean was just about to reach his meat-lover's supreme when Sammy pulled him back, "Can you cover for me tonight?"

"What?" he couldn't believe Sam would ask him to cover right after he'd gotten in a jam and had a heavy talking to, "No! Come on… you think I'm an idiot?"

"I need to talk to Erika," he pleaded. Dean rolled his eyes and started toward his plate. Sam pulled him back again and gave him puppy eyes. Dean could never resist the puppy eyes, "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't the most important thing for me to do right now. Please, Dean."

He sighed and folded. "Fine. I've got to go into town anyway tonight, but the story is we're getting groceries, okay?"

Sam gave him a relieved smile. Whatever the kid was up to, Dean hoped he had a good reason for dragging him into it.

"Wait, Dean," his little brother stage-whispered from the hall, "What do you need to go into town for?"

Dean swore under his breath, then turned to Sammy, "None of your damn business. Come on. Let's eat."


	16. Chapter 16

"Here you go, Sammy. Skylight motel," Dean squinted out the window past his brother, "Wow, looks even more grungy than the dives we stay at."

Sam frowned at his brother. He had no right to judge. Did the homeless judge the other homeless? _Probably_, Sam thought, _but they shouldn't. _"You'll come to pick me up?"

Dean nodded, beating the dash to the crash of the drums coming from the stereo system. He only did that when he was nervous. _There's a girl, no question,_ Sam thought decidedly. "Okay, see you soon."

Dean was about to drive off when he jerked to a halt and rolled the window down. "Hey, Sammy?"

Sam turned with a frown, "Sam."

"Whatever. You call Bobby if anything goes wrong, you hear?"

He nodded. If he got into any really bad trouble he would call. Dean drove away, leaving Sam in the bare parking lot of motel-land. Erika had told him the number. Room sixteen she had said. "Room sixteen, knock on the back window twice," he repeated her instructions from the day of the stabbing in his head.

He scouted out the area in case he had to make a quick getaway. The tasteless lilac washed stucco walls formed a 'U' around the parking lot. All of the curtains in the building were drawn except in the reception house. Typical motel. That's all. Sam took a deep breath and casually walked toward the back of the building. The gap between the torn wire fence bordering the forest and the walls of the motel was thin. Sam had to turn sideways at times to fit past the inconsistent warps in the side.

Number sixteen was the fourth from the far left when he looked at the front of the building… That meant it was the next one. He sidled up to the window and tapped twice. He hoped Erika heard, and not her mom. Sam clutched his knife like a safety blanket. No reply from inside came. Sam was just about to leave, embarrassed and disappointed, when Erika's head poked out the window. Her braid hung down as she smiled, "Sammy," she whispered, "Meet me on the roof in five. We've got tons to talk about."

"How—" but she was already gone. Sam looked up. He could probably just find a good place to stand on the fence then climb up via the grimy rain gutter. A dog barked in the distance, setting Sam's teeth on edge as he lodged his feet in the gaps of the deteriorating fence. _Please let no one see me, _he pleaded as he pulled himself onto the flat roof with a groan.

Erika appeared not long after, by way of ladder that Sam must have missed, clutching a folder of loose sheets and two cans of orange juice. It was still warm outdoors, but a slight breeze made Sam glad he'd thought to wear his hoodie. "What's that?" he inquired as Erika sat down cross-legged next to him and pushed her bangs out of her eyes.

"Everything you ever need to know about Phil Briggs. And skin-walkers," she added, handing him his juice, "That's why you came, right?" pause, "To help track the bastard down?"

Sam didn't answer her right away. She nodded without looking his way and gathered her things, then stood back up and frowned down at him, "I should have known better. You came to tell me that we can't talk anymore, right? That you're a hunter and I'm a hunter and its best we go our separate ways," she laughed meanly, "God, I thought you were different, Sam, I really did. I mean with all the talk about being the outsider and sob-story crap I thought you'd be a little— I don't know… more considerate—at least— than the others. I thought. I was wrong, though. Like always."

"Erika—" he wondered how girls were always so good at picking up on stuff. How had she known just from his hesitation?

"No, Sam. I'm going to work this job on my own. I know I can do it. Besides, you suck at tracking." Erika stalked away, leaving Sam feeling more guilty than ever. And a little angry; he did not suck at tracking. He watched Erika walk down into the parking lot toward the restaurant.

He was just about to turn away when a german shepherd raced out into the lot from behind a car. It was headed straight for Erika.

He yelled her name a second too late.


	17. Chapter 17

"The Beatles are totally better than the Rolling Stones," Mikaela smiled over her banana cream pie. She had a little bit of whipped cream on her thinly freckled nose.

"Their lyrics make no sense," Dean grinned, wiping the cream away. She blushed a bit.

"And 'Monkey Man' is a poetic feat of genius."

"Fine, fine you win," Dean felt an involuntary laugh bubbling up inside. When was the last time he'd actually enjoyed himself? "I've gotta go anyway."

"You just got here," Mikaela grabbed his hand as he was about to slip out of the private booth she'd found. His hands were rough and callused. She wondered about Dean. Something about him made her want to unravel his mystery, "Where've you got to be anyway? It's Saturday night. No one ever has plans Saturday night."

"My brother..." Dean muttered. He checked his watch. There was only a half-hour left before he'd told Bobby they'd be home. He still had to pick up Sammy.

"What?" Mikaela hadn't heard Dean's excuse. With a feeling that was almost relief, he sat back down and glanced at his watch. Just a little bit longer.

"So for all our talking and liking each other, you haven't mentioned what brought you to the thriving metropolis of Sioux Falls," she took a forkful of yellowy filling and daintily piloted it into her mouth.

"Just visiting my uncle. Me and my little brother are staying here while our Dad works," he explained. Not enough details for it to be a lie; he didn't want to lie to her.

"Your brother's that Sam kid, right?"

"Yeah," Dean said, ready to protect his brother from the rumours he was sure were circulating, "What about him?" he crossed his arms threateningly.

"Woah- don't worry, Dean," Mikaela reassured him while taking a little bit of coconut off his plate and licking it off her finger. Girls. Thank God for girls. "He was such a hero this week."

"He was?" Sammy? The hero? "I'm sure you're thinking of someone else..." Sam was never the hero.

"No!" she insisted, leaning closer, "Phil Briggs was freaking out- all your brother did was hold the guy down," she frowned a bit, tossing her hair, "There was always something funny about him. Like, once I was at my grandmother's house sitting and he just showed up on the porch, holding a string of my grandmother's pearls. I mean where could be even have got them?"

It was pretty suspicious, Dean could admit. And he was glad that Mikaela had taken Sam's side... Sam... He hoped everything was alright with his little brother. He'd better not have gotten in any trouble with that hunter girl he was so damn attached to.

"I just have to make a call," he excused himself abruptly. Mikaela protested, but Dean's long strides took him to the pay phone. He shoved a happy-go-lucky jock out of the way, "Scooch, Sparky," and dialed the operator, ignoring the football player's insults. This was not the time. "Skylight motel," he blurted as soon as the call went through.

Dean had a bad feeling. It was a squeezing and pulling of his gut. It wasn't the pie either. Usually he only felt this way on a hunt… Mostly on hunts when Sammy was in trouble.

"Skylight motel, how may I help-"

"You seen a scrawny kid- brown hair, grey hoodie... tall might've been hanging around-?"

"Oh my God!" Dean heard from the other end, "someone get an ambulance! Someone he-" the droning tone of a disconnected phone met Dean's ear.

He rushed out of the restaurant without saying goodbye to Mikaela.


	18. Chapter 18

The dog tore into Erika's side before Sam could make it down the ladder. She let out an involuntary shriek. A pure, human cry of agony. The dog bit in again. Sam dodged cars as he pulled out his silver knife before he wrestled the dog to the asphalt so that he could stab the heart of the dirty skin-walker. It fell still as the silver pricked its heart, continuing to gnash its teeth only slightly as the blood bubbled up in its mouth, staining its— no, _his_, teeth.

_Would Phil change back?_ Sam wondered, staring transfixed at the dog, _Would he always be a dead dog in the parking lot of some cheap motel?_

Afterwards, Dean would ask him how long he sat there. Sam never knew. He only moved when it started to rain, and Erika made a croak of semi-consciousness. It could have been seconds or hours. In a daze he gathered her in his arms, unaware of the blood warming He was used to blood and death and gore, but he wasn't used to the blood and death and gore of his… his… his friends.

He wasn't used to murder.

Soon the ambulance lights were flashing and stretchers being pulled and Erika was taken away.

Sam waited and knocked outside of Room 16. He waited and knocked until Dean pulled him away and sat him in the car and took him back home to Bobby's. _Where was her mother,_ he screamed in his head, _where was her mother?_

"Sammy?" Dean snapped in front of his brother's face.

"Yeah?" Sam's eyes finally focused in on him. Thank God. Dean let out a huge sigh. Bobby put his whiskey down and jumped off the counter-top. He clomped closer to the boys on dirt clotted boots.

Dean didn't say anything to his brother for a long time. He was just glad that Sammy was okay. But then, "What happened?"

"Dean?" Sammy's voice trembled. Tears were gathering in the corners of his eyes.

What had happened at the motel? Where was Erika? More importantly: was the blood on his brother's t-shirt hers? "Yeah, buddy?"

"I think I killed someone," his eyes were asking Dean to prove him wrong, but both Bobby and the oldest brother could see the blood on Sam's shirt and the knife that was soaked up to the leather grip with chunks of flesh and fur.

Bobby downed the rest of his whiskey, "You didn't kill nobody, Sam. Skin-walkers don't count—"

"DON'T TELL ME THAT THEY DON'T COUNT," Sam roared. Dean stood back, agape, as his little brother stood in front of Bobby— openly disrespecting his hospitality without a second thought.

"Sam, I think you should just chill for a minute, man—" he grabbed Sam's shoulder, but the boy brushed him off and turned on him.

His face was red and tears were collecting on his chin. Sam wasn't sad, though. He was frightfully angry, "Phil had parents and friends and people who cared about him, Dean— Bobby— he was a person whether we like it or not and I killed him— I— "

That's when Sam Winchester bolted from the house mid-sentence and disappeared into the night, leaving Bobby and Dean exhausted.

There weren't many times Bobby Singer and Dean Winchester agreed that being a hunter was flat out terrible. But tonight, over a couple of beers that didn't last them 'til the morning that lit Sam's return, they did so wholeheartedly.


	19. Chapter 19

Erika resurfaced to a vague world where lights streaked and blurred and the echoes of tiny sounds lasted years. She was barely aware of the bandages at her sides or the IV tapping into her tight forearm. She was burning from the inside, her blood bubbling and steaming through her skin.

Doctors gathered at Erika's side. She was a mystery in every way- no name, no address... No records at all. She was infected by that dog, that was for certain... but what kind of infection? It wasn't rabies or anything found in a medical book... it was strange.

The head of Sioux Falls General sterilized a patch of skin at the site of the wound. She was middle-aged. Bottle-blonde hair, blue scrubs, deep lines on her forehead and a ring on her hand, pictures in her pocket. Her name was Geraldine Thomas, and she was going to make sure this girl made it.

Blood filled the capsule and she carefully ensured that it was safely sealed. Who knew what this mystery bacteria was... It could be the next plague for all Dr. Thomas knew.

"She's moving!" one of the interns exclaimed. Geraldine turned to ensure the eager new meat's observation. The girl was in fact stirring. Her eyes unglued themselves and her hand raised up as if she were reaching for something or someone. The child stared blindly ahead, struggling for words as her heart rate soared and she fought to stay above the surface of consciousness.

For one tense moment, the doctors were sure that the girl would reawaken. However, her arm dropped limp to her side and she returned to her near comatose state.

Geraldine ran the sample down to the lab, unaware of the boy she passed in the hallway. A boy who was watching closer than any of the doctors, who swore that at any cost, Erika would be restored to her former health.

* * *

Bobby and Dean weren't angry with him. They were disappointed.

Sam cursed himself for being so careless. Why did he always have to act on his temper instead of his brains. Dad said it was ironic. _For such a smart kid you sure are dumb, _then Dad would get over whatever beef he had with him and move on to other things. Like the thing that killed Mom.

That was another thing- Mary was Dean's mom, and Dad's wife, but what was she to Sam. She was a dream that he chased with Dad and Dean because she was supposed to mean something. He was supposed to feel something for her. But he didn't. "Mom" was just a story like the ones Dean used to tell him before he fell asleep at night. It felt wrong on his mouth. He had never spoken the word to the woman. And he couldn't tell anyone. It was burning him up, making him hate and he needed to get out.

Erika had made him feel better about 'the life'. She was someone who he could share his problems with and be, well, closer to truthful than normal. He was responsible for the skin-walker tearing into her. He was responsible for her being on her death bed.

Dean knocked on the door, "Hey, Sammy, I know you're mad at me and Bobby about your little friend, but I'd really like to get some different clothes out of my bag so that I don't have to smell like I was wiped in a demon's ass all day."

Without speaking Sam pulled the door open. He knew he was being childish, giving Dean the silent treatment, but he was almost too embarrassed about this whole debacle to live. Dean grabbed his clothes and clomped his little brother on the head with a shoe. Sam didn't react at all. This bothered Dean, who really wanted to give him a beating.

"Hospital called, by the way," Dean told him on the way out the door in only his boxers, "It was your girlfriend. Says she's fine and she'll see you at the zoo. Congrats, Drama Queen, looks like you have a date."

"Jerk," Sam spat. Couldn't Dean have told him a little earlier?

"Bitch," the older brother shot back without hesitation. Sam was an idiot sometimes, but Dean was glad. He hoped his brother would always be a godforsaken idiot.


	20. Chapter 20

_**I'm sorry that I haven't updated in a while! My exams are coming up and I have a couple of concerts, so I'm pretty swamped. Hopefully this chapter makes it up to you, though!**_

_This is what hell must feel like_, Sam thought as the school bus pulled into the zoo parking lot. Sweat was beading on his hairline and he was sure he had at least five spitballs on the back of his jacket. The guy next to him was taking up half the aisle as well as three-quarters of the seat, and he smelled like a compost heap. He was also pierced in at least ten places not including his face, had three tattoos and was carrying a knife. Despite Sam's familiarity with guns and knives and all kinds of other lethal weapons, this worried him.

He wished Erika were here.

Miss Phillips stood at the front of the bus. Her perfectly curled blonde hair had become a frizzy mess. She looked ridiculous, and Mason didn't have a problem telling her so. Sam told him to shut up. He did. No one wanted too much attention from Psycho Sam.

"I will be passing out a sheet for each pair," Miss Phillips continued, uninterrupted, "and you will have to write a report on the animal that is listed below. Make sure you get your sheet before you head on out for a day of fun!"

The students began to stream out of the aisles and wedge their ways out of the bus. Sam was skinny, so he managed to escape unscathed, avoiding Mason's efforts at revenge.

Most people slipped past a resigned looking Miss Phillips without stopping for a worksheet, but Sam took his assignment from her on his way out. "Where's your partner?" she shouted after him. He pretended not to hear as he slipped down a shady path. _If I don't think about it, it didn't happen,_ it was a phrase Dean had told him once, and it echoed like a mantra through his head, _Seals. All I need to do is observe the seals._

So, he experienced the zoo for the first time. It was hot and sweaty, but he got to see the tigers and monkeys and all sorts of things that more amazing and more beautiful than any of the creatures he'd seen on the job with Dad. He even got to feed an antelope.

He was just approaching the aquarium portion when someone grabbed him and pulled him off the path into the faux jungle brush. It was Erika.

His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, "Eri—"

She clamped a hand down over his mouth and shushed him, her eyes flicking over the bushes at the people walking their stroller-strapped toddler happily along the path as if they might decide to attack. Slowly she released Sam's face, and wiped her hand on her cargo pants.

"I guess you weren't lying about wanting to come to the zoo," Sam joked halfheartedly. Really he just wanted to hug her and tell her how glad he was that she was alive.

Erika rolled her eyes, "No 'it's great that you're back from the dead' or 'what the fuck are you doing here, I almost wet my pants in surprise'? Come on, Sam. I thought you were better than this." Without realizing it Erika echoed her words from Saturday night. Sam's face turned pale green at her chastising, so she assumed it was sinking in that he was looking at a should-be-dead girl, "Jeez, you okay? You look like you're going to vomit."

"I'm fine..." he told her as he surveyed her closely. Sam knew he could no longer totally trust Erika. He'd seen her wounds- carried her through the parking lot to safety. There was no way she could have healed that fast. Unless... No. He chased the thought out of his mind. Erika was still Erika. She looked and talked and acted the same. She was the same. Erika was the same.

He pulled the sheet Miss Phillips had given him out of his pocket, "Hey, we got seals for our report!"

"Yes! I can't wait to see the aquarium! I hear they have sharks..." they exited the bushes as inconspicuously as possible and entered the steady flow of students. They didn't talk about Phil Briggs or hospitals or monsters or family. They talked about TV and good food and embarrassing moments. For these moments they were regular kids. They both secretly worshipped these times.

It turned out the sharks were only the cat-sized variety, which disappointed Erika. She'd been rooting for the 'Jaws' kind, although Sam assured her it would be impossible to transport an animal not only of its weight and length, but of its type to South Dakota. She pushed him playfully and told him to lower his IQ. "It's not natural for a hunter to be as smart as you," she told him through laughter. He took it as a compliment.

The seal tank was corny as all get out. An audience sat in a small ring and watched as the seals did flips and balanced balls on their noses and clapped their fins. "What is this, _Andre_?" Erika whispered in reference to an old kids' movie about a friendly seal. Sam stifled his laughter as he attempted to take notes.

At the end of the show the two kids headed down to ask the interviewer a couple of questions before the next show started, hoping to gather a little more information than Selena and Sylvester, stars of 'Seal Deal' and actual Atlantic Ocean natives, had been able to provide them with.

"Excuse me?" Sam tried to get the trainer's attention. He was an elderly man who sported a beige windbreaker and flyaway moustache (possibly to compensate for his lack of hair elsewhere) who was, at the moment, feeding the seals whole fish.

The man stopped mid throw and a fish flopped to the platform, mouth agape, "Yes, son," he answered with a friendly smile and an accent that sounded Irish.

"We're working on a project and we could use some help with the behaviour of your seals... We have to hand in a report-"

The man interrupted Sam's explanation by unlocking the fence and beckoning for them to enter. Erika's smile stretched across her entire face. The trainer turned to kick the fish in the water and she latched onto Sam's arm and did a little dance. For someone who had been so sarcastic about the show, she sure was excited to meet the stars.

"I'm Cedric," the trainer announced while slapping raw fish into the two students' palms, "It's great that you're here... it's not often that we get avid students such as yourself. What are your names?"

"This is Erika," Sam held the fish an arm's length away, "I'm Sam."

"Well it's very nice to meet the both of you," he chuckled, "You, girl-" Cedric reached for Erika's flannel shirt, "Throw the fish for Sylvester. When he jumps you'll see why he's special." Erika nodded and threw her fish straight up. The seal rose from the water like the masthead of a submerged ship as the tide pulls out. It twisted itself perfectly to catch the fish open-mouthed before falling back into a swan dive.

"Did you see it?" Cedric asked urgently as the seal swam away.

"No," Sam said as Erika exclaimed, "Yes!"

"Ah, well, next time, son," the trainer told Sam, "You saw it, though, didn't you?" Erika nodded.

"It was like he'd been ripped up the middle or something... Was he abused?"

Cedric shrugged, "I don't know. Perhaps you could find out! It's the big mystery of my life. Unfortunately, I don't think I'll ever solve it," the old man picked up the faded red fish bucket and dumped the leftovers into the water. The seals gracefully snatched them up.

"Why not?" The old man looked heartbroken over the fact that he may not be able to discover the seal's problem.

"Well, I'll be retiring and moving back to Ireland after this year... too old for this, I'm afraid. I'll be leaving poor Sylvester behind. I'll miss the bastard, but he'll be fine with Brent, my intern."

The three were silent as they watched the graceful motions of the seals. Before Cedric started on the history of the Grey Seal.

It was surprisingly interesting. Both Sam and Erika left ready to write a detailed essay on the characteristics of the zoo's two best show seals.

"Seals are so cool," Erika gushed on their way down the path, "Wouldn't it be cool to be a seal?"

"Yeah, you could live on land and in the ocean and-" a hoarse scream shot through the air from back at the seal tank. No one around the two hunters-in-training turned their heads. In fact, Erika and Sam would have thought that the howl had come from the monkey area, had they not recognized Cedric's voice.

With only a glance between them it was decided. Cedric needed help, and they were going to make sure he had it. Sam's heart was racing with the stubborn determination that Cedric would be all right.

They arrived at the scene within a minute.

But as it often is, a minute was too late. Blood was slowly spreading throughout the pool, chunks of flesh and windbreaker removed from Cedric's chest where his insides floated out leaking brown and more thick red juice. The seals circled in.

Sam and Erika watched as the animals took one bite, then two, then committed themselves to picking the bones of their loving trainer clean.


	21. Chapter 21

John Winchester did not like monsters. He did not like ghouls or ghosts or even spirits. He did not like demons or shifters or vamps.

But Greek monsters were by far the worst.

There were only three things he knew for sure: 1. He had to hunt down the _thing_ that killed Mary, 2. He had to protect his boys, and 3. That he was glad he was not born in ancient Greece.

In all of history there was no place more saturated with the damned than that tiny Mediterranean island. And to make matters worse, Greek monsters were clever. God, were they ever clever.

John pulled a thick machete out of his weapons bag and shut the trunk as quietly as possible, looking around through mirrored sunglasses to make sure he wasn't being watched. The scent of morning's arrival filled his head as his feet found their silent places in the soft forest ground. Crickets hummed and the soft slithering of garter snakes reminded John of the antidote he had in his pocket. Just in case one of those snakes on the Gorgon's head decided he looked like a fast food or something.

A modest stucco cottage came into view. All the lights were out, but that didn't tell him much. Gorgons could live just as well in the dark. A basement window was open. That was probably a trap, unless she was trying to keep the house cool… John laughed internally at this. Gorgons loved the heat. _Front door's my best bet,_ he decided, and skipped stealthily up the stairs then kicked the door in.

Two steps in were all it took for him to get caught.

"Hello, John. I've been expecting you," came a voice from behind. He felt a sharp twinge at the back of his neck. Without turning he scrambled for the vial of antidote in his pocket, but it was gone. Dizzy already, he swung the machete, but caught air.

"Where'd ya go, bitch?" he slurred through a thick tongue.

John reached for the blank wall as his legs gave way. "Sleep now, sweet Winchester," a woman's deep and melodious voice soothed, "We will speak when you wake." Red taloned hands pulled the mirrored lenses (his last defense) from his face.

_Dammit._

* * *

Dean met Mikaela again that afternoon. Bobby decided that he would take care of the phones after a mishap with some hunter up in Oregon. He picked her up at her normal-family-bungalow and met her parents and little brother. He even survived the interrogation that her mother spouted out as soon as he rang the doorbell. "Where are you from?", "How old are you?", "You ever been in any trouble?". Dean had almost laughed at that last one, but since he was trying to impress Mikaela's mom he simply smiled and said, "No, ma'am."

She was quiet at first when she got into his (well, Bobby's) car. It wasn't uncomfortable, though. Just… nice. Nice. Dean didn't get nice often. He tried to contain his smile, but soon enough it broke out, and he started laughing and Mikaela gave him a weird look.

"You'd better not be a deranged rapist or something."

"I'm not… I'm just happy," he told her through laughs, "Besides, this is kind of a different thing for me."

"Different how?"

"I mean, you're nice and actually kind of beautiful."

"Beautiful?" Mikaela tilted her head in disbelief, "Did you just say— "

"Yes, I said it… God. Don't rub it in, okay? I swear I've never said it to anyone and actually it's a little embarra— HOLY MOTHER OF—" a naked man had just jumped in front of the car. Dean swerved sideways as Mikaela screeched and landed them in the ditch.

"WHAT WAS THAT? ARE YOU CRAZY?" Mikaela's knuckles were white with the pressure she was exerting on the dash. But Dean was already out of the car and running up the muddy side of the ditch, "DEAN! GET BACK HERE!" frustrated, Mikaela ripped her seatbelt off and scrambled up to the road, "MY MOM'S GONNA KILL YOU— oh my god."

"Hey, man— you okay?" Dean approached the guy— who was now lying facedown on the road, smooth buttocks skyward— cautiously, "You need some help? Underpants? Medical attention?"

"Dean," Mikaela whispered accusatorily. He turned around to grin at her. She did not grin back.

"Dude, can you hear me?" he said louder. When the man didn't answer Dean poked his shoulder, "HEY—!" which is when the naked man grasped Dean by the neck. The man was strong, Dean gave him that, but for some odd reason his hands seemed to be coated in oil, so they couldn't really get a good grip on his neck.

As quick as he could, Dean pushed the snarling man off him— he really wasn't feeling like close contact with this insane and naked middle-aged man was what he wanted right now— and socked him hard across the jaw. The guy fell limp to the ground.

Mikaela was in shock. "Wha—"

"I did self-defense classes back home," Dean lied, "He should be out cold for a while." He pulled the body off to the side of the road and opened up Bobby's trunk. Even if they weren't going to be able to get the car out of the ditch for at least an hour, he needed to make sure that naked-guy wasn't going anywhere.

Mikaela watched as her possible-boyfriend stuffed a body into the trunk of his car. She was scared. This was not normal, non-crazy behaviour. This was possibly deranged criminal behaviour. "Help," she squeaked to herself. To herself and maybe God or the police or something.

"That should hold him for a while," Dean pulled out a cell-phone and dialed a number at lightning speed. "Hey Bobby… yeah, I'm sorry to bother you, but the car's in the ditch and I think we may have a body in the trunk…"

"_Think?"_ Mikaela mouthed at him angrily. Dean smiled goofily. _Not normal. _She started to look for a way out of this situation.

"Okay, yeah… I'm real sorry Uncle Bobby," Dean closed the phone and went up to the side of the road to talk to Mikaela. She didn't speak. Neither did he.

This time it was a very uncomfortable silence.


	22. Chapter 22

Bobby heard the back door open just as he was about to go out the front and start up the tow truck. Better check to see who that is, he thought. It wouldn't be the first time some sort of demon walked in without his notice. Quietly he prepped the gun he kept on him at all times, an old six-shooter, and padded toward the back of the house. One more corner and…

Sam jumped as Bobby appeared, gun pointed toward him and Erika. "Jeez!" he shouted as his surrogate uncle nearly pulled the trigger and blew them away, "It's just me, Uncle Bobby!"

"Just you?" he stared suspiciously at Erika.

Sam did glanced back at his friend. She nodded. He could tell Bobby who she was. "Uncle Bobby, this is Erika. Her family hunts too."

Bobby didn't lower his gun, "What did I tell you, boy?"

"I know… you told me not to trust her, but we think we might have a case."

"A case?"

Sam nodded shyly. Bobby sighed and lowered the gun, "Well, all right. You kids don't burn the house down when I'm gone, ya hear?" his gaze paused on Erika, who shifted a little.

"Where are you going?" the boy asked.

"Dean crashed the car," Sam opened his mouth to speak but Bobby interrupted, "Idjit's fine. Said he might have a case too."

"Okay… We'll just wait here," Sam led Erika into the living room, "Thanks, Uncle Bobby!" He shouted as the door slammed shut behind the cranky old hunter.

Sam and Erika didn't know what to say. They had just seen a murder by... seal. Or something. Sam at least, was convinced seals didn't feast on mammal flesh.

Erika, on the other hand, had moved on. She didn't know why she had agreed to come over to Sam's house when she knew his family wouldn't be welcoming. It wasn't the fun that Sam's Uncle Bob or whatever had pointed at her. It was more the piercing glare he'd given her and the space between her and Sam on the couch.

"I'd give you a tour... but there's not much to see. It's basically this room and the kitchen and upstairs. You probably don't want to see upstairs, though. It's pretty grungy. And we're not allowed in the basement. Do you like cars? I could show you the-"

"Hey, Sam. I know you're worried about your brother being a car accident, but I could really use some time to think about the whole Cedric-seal zoo adventure," Erika gave him a sympathetic glance and stood up. She began surveying the bookshelves. Every once in a while she would stop and pull a book off the shelf, open it and skim the musty pages. Then she'd put it back and move on.

Sam sat rigid on the couch. He wasn't really that worried about Dean's crash. More about the fact that he'd have to introduce him to Erika and his reaction wasn't likely to be better than Uncle Bobby's. To try and take his mind off things, he pulled the zoo project out of his bag and began work.

"Hey, you think that it could have been Phil Briggs?" Erika asked Sam as she inspected a photograph of Bobby and Dean playing catch. Sam tensed at her casual remark. He hadn't told her that he'd killed the skin-walker yet.

"No," he didn't feel that it was the right moment to share that particular tidbit, "He was probably a thief, but I don't see him being a killer."

"It was probably just a seal, right?"

"A man-eating, creepy, murderous seal."

"But a seal."

"Yeah, a seal."

Erika placed the picture back on the shelf and sat next to Sam on the rugged couch.

"Do you want to do this forever?" she asked.

"Do what?"

"Hunt."

Sam shook his head, "No. No, I don't."

That made Erika smile a bit, "Me neither."

"You don't have to, you know."

"Yeah, I do."

"Me too. At least until we find what killed my mom."

"Until we find what killed my sister."

Dean poked his head in through the door, "Am I interrupting?" he grinned cockily, "Sammy," he continued without waiting for an answer, "Who's this?"

"This is Erika," he told Dean, whose smile dropped, "she's my friend."

Dean crossed his arms threateningly and jerked his head toward the door. He wanted to talk.


	23. Chapter 23

"Are you serious?" Dean shout whispered, " you brought her here?" He pushed his little brother who tried to stay planted, but stumbled a bit, "Seriously, Sam. What's wrong with you? Dad taught us better than this."

"Dean she's fine," Sam told Dean angrily, "Trust me."

Sam watched as his brother's shoulders relaxed and he seemed to accept that Erika was okay. "You know, I'm really trying to be patient with you, Sammy... But can't you see what's wrong with this picture?" Dean's voice rose."Some hunter just shows up around the same time we do? Does that seem a little suspicious?" he was getting worked up.

"Well, it's not that big a deal... It's a coinci-"

"Don't you dare say coincidence. Fuck, coincidences don't just happen... coinci-conici-coinci-"

"Coincidentally?" Sam rolled his eyes.

"I knew what the word was," Dean stepped closer to Sam aggressively, "And, yeah. This isn't a coincidence."

"Yeah it-"

"No it isn't, Sam. God, stop being so stubborn and listen to me-"

"Dean, Erika is fine. She's my-"

"You don't have friends. That girl," he pointed emphatically toward the wall behind which Erika sat, "is not your friend, Sammy."

"Yes she i-"

"No. She isn't," He let out a heaving sigh, "besides, I thought she got stabbed. Wasn't that what your whole freak out about yesterday? Totally not cool, dude."

"She did... She was okay today."

"There's no way she healed up that fast."

"Well, Erika did."

"She got bit."

"Dean..."

He shook his head and laughed cruelly, "Face it, Sammy. She's probably a-"

Understanding flickered in Sam's eyes, but as he looked back up at Dean, the light went out and the stubbornness was back, "She would have told me."

"She might not even know," Dean warned.

Uncle Bobby stomped into the hall and gave the boys a good long look, "That kid still in the room?"

"Yes," the boys replied in unison.

"Well, show a little hospitality and git in there!" he told them.

Sam gave Dean one last pig-headed glare and went back into the room to be a good host.

Erika hadn't moved. She was still sitting on the couch and clicking her heels. She smiled at Sam as he took a seat, but he did not raise a corner of his mouth even slightly.

"Your brother giving you grief over me?" she didn't seem upset about it at all. That's what Sam liked about Erika. She was level-headed and knew what being a hunter meant.

Actually, she hadn't even wanted to come over to Uncle Bobby's, but he'd insisted. In hindsight he should have listened. What was there really that suggested that there was a case at the zoo? Nothing. Just the suspicions of two kids.

"No," Sam told his friend, "he was just telling me that I should have made my bed this morning."

Erika laughed, but she knew Sam was lying to her. No… he was lying for her.


	24. Chapter 24

_**I'm back! Sorry it's taken so long to update... I had exams and LOTS OF WORK. Anyway, here is Chapter 24. :) Please enjoy, and feel free to review, I love having feedback. (You guys are cool, thanks for sticking with it.)**_

John's head snapped back with what seemed like the millionth hit his face had taken. Blood trickled slowly from his lip into the scrubble on his chin. The gorgon straightened her sunglasses and pushed a couple of snakes from her face, "Tell me where he is, John," she hissed persuasively. He smiled and spit. It landed on the gorgon's chest and trickled down into the crevice between her voluptuous breasts.

She ignored this small act of rebellion. The man must be close to breaking. She'd beaten him near unconscious a dozen times and removed three of his toenails. Humans were weak. John Winchester would be weak when it came down to the last of it. After all, she would kill to get to the fabled demon-child 'Sam' if she had to.

John watched through a pussing eye as his torturer twisted a slender index finger through the bloody spittle then sucked it dry. _Disgusting,_ he thought for the millionth time, _Greek monsters are just plain disgusting, _but a gorgon being disgusting in no way made John forget that if he didn't get out of this mess soon, he wasn't going to get out of it at all. He took a deep wheezing breath (one of his ribs was most likely broken) and looked the gorgon in the big gaudy sunglasses she had to wear to ensure that her meat stayed non-statue quality, "My son…" he began slowly. He needed to draw this out if his plan was going to work.

"Yes, yes… tell me," the gorgon was impatient. A smile grew at the corners of John's mouth. _This might actually work_.

"My son," his hands came free of the rope tying them together. He grabbed the leg of the chair hard and said, "My son can eat your ass."

Too fast for the gorgon to react, John tripped her with the chair and grabbed his machete from where it was sitting on a cinder-block ledge. Before the gorgon got back up, he swung hard and fast, cutting her head off clean. "Take that, bitch," he grunted as he stumbled out into the streaming afternoon light.

* * *

Bobby and Dean thunked the naked man down on the kitchen table, "Jesus," Bobby remarked, examining the marks the car had mad on the guy's legs, "You really whacked him."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean waved the comment off with a roll of duct tape that he proceeded to tie the man to the table with, "Shouldn't have been out on the road."

Bobby grumbled to himself about not letting Dean borrow a car anytime soon. Annoyed, Dean tried to change the subject, "You hear from Dad?"

This seemed like an uncomfortable subject for Bobby. Dean didn't like it when subjects were uncomfortable for Bobby. Usually it meant someone was dead or gravely injured. "What? What is it Bobby?"

"Don't get so antsy, boy. You're gonna rip right through the nude bastard if you don't loosen the tape a little," then Bobby sighed, "Your dad hasn't called to check in yet."

"Maybe he's just a little late."

"He was supposed to call three—" Bobby checked his watch, "—no four hours ago."

"Okay," Dean ripped the tape with his teeth, "Should I go check it out?"

"What?" Bobby rubbed his trusty baseball cap, "Nah, might just be holed up. No reason to panic. Besides, if I'm gonna send someone after John, I'm gonna send someone with a little more experience."

This offended Dean, "I got plenty of experience!"

Bobby just glared at him.

"I can take on a gorgon!" he insisted.

Bobby didn't lower his gaze.

"Fine," he grabbed a bottle of holy water and dumped it on the naked guy's face. It trickled off without any effect. Next they nicked him with silver, bronze, and iron.

Nothing.

Bobby emptied every nook and cranny of monster-reactive tools, but after trying pretty near everything on Bobby's property, they were stumped.

"What is he, Bobby?" Dean asked, wiping sweat from his forehead with a thick leather cloth that had formerly been used only in ancient rituals.

Bobby's brow furrowed as he hunched over a yellowing volume. "Nope. I got nothing."

"We're screwed."

"Yep."

At that moment Sam entered the kitchen, "Wha—oh. I guess you guys are working, huh?"

"Your girlfriend leave yet?"

His little brother shot daggers at him, "She's not my— yes. Erika left."

Bobby refrained from imparting his opinion, but Dean could tell he was just as skeptical about Sam's little buddy as he was.

The math just didn't add up. The rules were simple: a hunter shows up around the same time, hangs around in the same places, gets torn up by a rogue skinwalker… You stay out of their way, or they stay out of yours. Buisness is business, no questions asked, first one to the end-zone scores big. You don't make _friends_ like Sam had. Sometimes Dean wondered if his little brother was trying to get kicked out of the family.

Dean watched as Sam searched for food in the double-use fridge. He was getting taller; his pants were too short now, and his shirts not long enough. Any year now he would be taller than Dean, a fact that Dean constantly tried to beat out of existence.

Sam sipped a glass of milk. "So what do we have?"

Bobby grumbled in Sam's general direction. He hated admitting to having nothing.

"Nada," Dean shuffled around to the big pile of books, and picked a couple up, "But if you want to be of some use you could use your nerd powers to try and help find out what the slimy son of a bitch is."

Sam couldn't refuse. After a week of letting everyone down it was time to help get something right. Besides, this might have something to do with what happened at the zoo...


	25. Chapter 25

Decidedly unsatisfied with his day, Sam tried to find a position that was even slightly comfortable to sleep in. He could hear Bobby pacing around downstairs, impatient for Mr. Nude to wake up. Sam was impatient too. He fluffed up his pillow and turned over again.

"Seriously, dude," Dean's irritable voice came from underneath a pillow, "the bed should be comfy enough by now. Go to sleep or get out."

"Sorry, Dean." His older brother was always cranky when it came to stuff like this. Sam waited a minute before asking a question that had been bothering him since he'd overheard Bobby and Dean's conversation about Dad. "Dean, where would we live if Dad didn't come back?"

Dean's hand flicked the light so fast that it seemed to turn itself on, "Dad's fine... Jesus, Sam. Don't you have any faith in the guy?"

"He was supposed to call, though," Sam said quietly. Dean looked about ready to sock him in the jaw. Bringing up Dad was stupid.

"He's always supposed to call and be never does and Dad is always fine, Sammy. Always," Dean turned his back on his younger brother and flicked the switch back off, "Goodnight."

Sam finally found a comfortable spot in his bed when something else occurred to him. Dean wasn't going to like this either. "Do you think we'd stay with Uncle Bobby?"

"Shut up, Sam."

"Because Dad always had trouble with Greek monsters. Remember that hydra?"

"He's only ever fought the hydra and a siren. Maybe gorgons are cake for him," Sam sighed. Dean was just trying to get him to shut up.

"Gorgons aren't cake, Dean."

"What? Now you're an expert?"

"Dad could be a statue right now for all we know — like actual stone —"

"I am so close to turning you into meat pie, Sam."

"But if Dad didn't come back would we get to stay in one place?" Sam immediately regretted letting that slip. It was selfish. Dean was quiet, which was not a good sign.

"Are you hoping Dad doesn't come back?"

"Dean, I—"

"God. You slimy little freak."

"I just wanted to know—"

"Know what? Whether you can live out your dorky little dream life without Dad to tell you where we go and when and how to fight the monsters?" Dean laughed harshly, "Well, news flash, Sammy. The monsters aren't going anywhere, so neither are you until they're all dead, we're all dead, or we find the dirty SOB who ganked Mom. Got it?"

"Yes."

"Great. Now shut up and go to sleep."

Even with his brother ordering him to go to bed, Sam couldn't stop wondering – not just about Dad, but about the naked man downstairs, and Cedric the seal trainer. Why would the seals eat their trainer? That was pretty freakish... maybe even monster crap. But Sam wondered if maybe he was just looking for something to distract him from what was becoming more and more clear— he was going to have to end it.

That afternoon, he thought he'd done a pretty good job of covering up the nature of his friend's exit.

While Dean and Bobby had been researching in the kitchen and poking and prodding the naked guy, Erika had been changing.

Sam had been reading a medieval book on "The Unholy Beastes" when she had called him over. He thought maybe she had found something about the seals. He could not have been more wrong.

"Can I tell you something?" Erika's big brown eyes were scared.

"Sure, yeah..." he was a little nervous.

Roughly, Erika unbuttoned her shirt, revealing an undershirt that had been cleaned of most of the blood and guts. She then lifted it up to show Sam her left side. "It healed," Erika's voice quavered as his fingers traced the wound, which was scarred over by fur, "but I— this grew in after— Sam... I don't know what to do. Your brother is right about me. I'm infected."

Sam didn't know what to say.

"Look. I told you because—"

"Erika—" he didn't like where this was going.

She sighed, "I want you to kill me."

Neither of them could look at each other. "Leave," Sam told her quietly.

Erika nodded and picked up her shirt. "Because you're scared or because you want to do it now?"

"I'm not scared," Sam said. He was lying again.

Erika stopped in the doorway, "it was nice knowing you," she told him.

Then she was gone.

Sam rolled over. Dean threw a pillow on top of him.

"Sleep, bitch."

But he couldn't, so he left the room and climbed out a window onto the roof, and sat there, staring at the stars, wondering if maybe tomorrow he would have to pull the trigger.


End file.
